I Try Everything Until It Works. That's What's Called Bonding.

I never thought I'd be one of those moms who guards her baby's sleep like a patrol officer. "No, don't touch him, he's sleeping!"
"Sssshhhhhh, don't make so much noise!" Evil mother eyes glare.
"Gooodddd!" I lament in a whisper, shaking my head, "Don't kiss him like that, you'll wake him up!" All of a sudden daddy becomes the perpetrator.
"If you wake him up you're going to have to deal with the consequences!!!" I've never threatened my husband so sincerely. He looked at me with fear.

What are the consequences? Usually they are the ultimate challenge of your patience and endurance; and usually daddy will always hand baby off before even entering round two. "Mamma," daddy has such a gaze of desperation, 'Bruno's hungry," he sings this as if to soften his defeat.
"He just ate!" I yell. "How do you think I know how to handle him? Because I try everything until it works. That's what's called bonding!"

But I'm not upset with daddy. He works twelve plus hour days, five days a week, providing Bruno and I the luxury of bonding together. But babies are twenty-four hour machines, like the energizer bunnies that keep going and going and going. I've learned a new meaning of perseverance. I've learned how persistence will lead you towards the breaking point -- the entry point -- even if something so trivial as trying to get Bruno to sleep in his bassinet during the day time takes me three days of trying the same routine over and over again. I persevere.

I've learned a new meaning and feeling of success. When you struggle for something so hard, like getting your baby to sleep in/on anything else other than you just so you can eat lunch or dinner, and you finally succeed . . .the sense of accomplishment is unrivaled.

I never give up, and I never assume that just because he was cranky during lunch, or in his bassinet, or woke up in the middle of his walk and I have to stop every five minutes to hold him until we arrive home a mile later . . . I never assume that he will repeat the same action again the next time. I never let that stop me from going out to lunch with friends, or taking another long walk. And when the hoped for moment that he is an angel happens, it's the best moment in the world. The other moments I call bonding time. The other moments of trying to comfort him in a million different positions I rationalize as muscle toning after a long pregnancy. It's amazing how moms do become like octopuses. I use my feet sometimes as often as my hands and have discovered that I can even hold things using the space between my neck and shoulder, using my mouth, my two feet together and even my knees. Basically . . . moms make it happen, no matter what.

My Name Is Bruno. Are You Feeling Lonely?

Hi, my name is Bruno a.k.a. The Italian Stallion. I'm bald, unemployed, and still live at home; in fact, I sleep in the same bed as my mom, and I love me some nice nipples. I'm very playful, and like a good Italian I'm very good with my hands.
Hmm, what do I love? I love women, especially ones with long hair like my mommy so I can grab it and feel powerful. I also love staring in their eyes while making poetic dolphin like squeals.
My shit don't stink and you can clean it for me in a few brisk easy wipes - but I have a mean fart, so loud  and fierce that sometimes mommy has to ask daddy if that was him or me. I can also give a great golden shower. My nonna calls it l'acqua di santo.
I have a double chin and fat rolls on my thighs that are creased so tightly if you pull them apart you can sometimes find treasures inside.
I'm a Pisces and overall a pretty mellow dude. I love attention but I'll make the right woman feel like a princess. I like long walks and to hold hands. I love music and dance, and to read books. My mom says one of my best qualities is that I'm in touch with my sensitive side and know how to express my emotions.
So if you're feeling lonely give Bruno The Italian Stallion a call. We can spoon the night away and I'll fill that dark sad hole you have inside with the warmth and light of my Italian pride.

To Love a Baby

I never loved a baby before. I always saw dirty faces, disgusting stained onesies . . .parents who showed way too many photos of their child, from every different angle possible. I couldn't really imagine changing diapers, cutting fingernails, suctioning boogers from their tiny noses or even just sticking a finger up there if possible. I truly never ever pictured myself singing lullabies or saying, "I'm mommy." I never would have thought that my husband and I would so quickly fall into calling each other daddy and mommy . . . and that it's kind of sexy.

To love a baby is like entering some type of Narnia and I must confess, it's happened to me. It's like a drug addiction and creeps on you with incredible doses of unexperienced ecstasy. Maybe that's what's so exciting, that at my age of 36 and a bit jaded, here is something so fresh, so unexpected, so uncontrollable, so humbling, so spontaneous and so filled with unconditional love.

I am now one of those who has a photo of my baby from every angle possible. I hold him for hours sometimes and just rock back and forth on the rocking chair as if we're lost at sea, smelling his baby skin, caressing his fine-haired soft head with the sides of my chin and cheeks and give him delicate kisses with almost every sway. The tenderness is immense and no other creature than your own baby can lure it from you so organically. My husband asks me, "do you think he knows how much me love him?" as he rubs Bruno's cheeks with his own and then gives him a big suction kiss.
"I don't believe you love me just because you tell me," I say. "Of course, he feels how much we love him."
"When will he start kissing?" My husband sounds as if he's in some type of desperation. This is what baby love does to you. You even feel pangs of love and joy when they fart in your arms. You rejoice together as parents every time they take a shit. "Is it a big one?" You scream to the other whose changing him. "Should we run a bath?"
It's insane. It's mad. Your life becomes secondary to this new relationship - to your new role - and you finally, finally, see your parents differently. Even if you "understood" them before, you now understand them differently . . .for better or for worse. Not every parent surrenders to the baby love. But when you do, it is one of life's greatest gifts of all. It didn't take me long to enter. And now I'll never turn back.

Going Back to Work Conversations Suck . . .

It's hard to imagine going back to work when only this morning my ass and back hurt from Bruno sleeping on me for over an hour. I tried to put him down in his bassinet but he instantly knows that's he's no longer on me. He starts to throw his hands up, squeal, and just overall disapprove of the situation. I pick him back up. If he wakes up now he'll be a little cranky pants for god knows how long. Better to have a physical pain in the butt than a literal one for the rest of the day.

Having conversations with hubby about going back to work is another pain in the ass. Even though we are both on the same page, and have thankfully or strategically discussed all important matters pre-baby . . . it doesn't matter. Not arguing at all with your husband after having a baby and everyone's hormones and sleep patterns are in upheaval would be like siblings not fighting with one another while going through puberty. We are just both the unlucky ones when we wake up and both are in a bad mood. Usually it's either one or the other and we forgive the other knowing we all have bad days, but there is no forgiving when it happens simultaneously.

"Bruno is getting upset," daddy says. We both walk away from each other. Thank god Bruno can be the reason to not undeservedly vent hormones and frustrations on each other. So we forget it, because it's not real. Daddy kisses me before he goes to work and I sit on the rocking chair for over an hour. I get excited thinking about all the amazing things I could potentially cook if I really could do something in all my new time off, and then I remember 'that ain't gonna happen yet'. I think about the exercises I could be doing, but even that is sometimes hard to squeeze in other than our daily long walks and my arm lifts pumping Bruno like he's a ten pound weight. Maybe I can play dress up and try on all my old clothes and see what I actually fit into, but I know I won't because my boobs are huge for the first time in my life and I don't even know how to wear them. They're not even those kinds of boobs. They're ones that I yank out in public if I have to and hold/squeeze between my hands to give better lift into Bruno's vacuum cleaner mouth. They're his punching bags, and personal property. Even daddy is cautious to trespass. My day passes as thoughts of physical movement and potential projects tempt me. What I do have are: many phone calls, delightful two hour walks sometimes twice a day, and zero late night booty calls; barely even a night cap to wet my whistle.

And even . . . surrounded by all these changes . . . these seeming limitations . . . these harrowing suspects of the mundane . . . it is anything but that . . . these are the best moments of my life.

You Might Never Feel Ready to Become a Mother Until You Become One

Bruno is six weeks old now and everyday he is a little different. How am I?

I think the same goes for me as well.

I have to remind myself every morning when the natural question arises "what am I going to do today?"  -- "ahaha, as if you could still plan your day," I laugh. But it's not always so funny. It can get difficult having a very small window to accomplish anything and even harder when you have no idea when that window will arrive.

And when it does, the fucked up part is that it feels strange. Today Bruno slept for an hour after coming home from our walk. I raced around the house to get chores done and when I finished with lightning speed I felt an emptiness. My boobs started to get engorged. My hormones started to drop. I missed him. I wanted to hold him, smell him. It's some messed up shit, these maternal hormones. And it made me think. . . I wasn't this person before he was born. I've been rewired with different hormones and emotions that come with motherhood. Which leads me to further conclude that it's true, "you might never feel ready to be a mother until you become one." Everything about your life changes and it's not only the lifestyle. Daddy (a.k.a. Massi) says almost everyday to Bruno, "Your mommy and daddy are better people because of you." It's strange how much what's important to you just shifts.

My Top Ten for Pregnant Women

1) Drink Lots of Water

2) Fight Your Hormones: This might be the only control you have during pregnancy and birth so start redirecting your energy and power into doing this. They are just tourists in your body . . they will leave eventually . . and they don't take the real you into consideration. If you need to explode or cry and your husband/partner is around, try to warm him: "I'm feeling very hormonal right now and I just need this moment to freak out and for you to be there for me and let me just have my moment." This will help, honestly, just a little, but at least you warned him. If you have any important issues you want to discuss with him, by god don't do it when you're hormonal. Have some strategy and wait for when you are feeling stronger.

3) You Are Not Eating for Two: Like I've written before, whoever started this myth is an asshole, so don't start eating like a pig just because you're pregnant. This is a time when you should eat very healthy and make sure that you are getting enough protein and vitamins. Don't over sugar and over starch for the sake of your own ass -- your body does not digest as well while pregnant so you are more susceptible to constipation. Any added displeasure while pregnant could just very well be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

4) Do Your Exercise and Start Squatting: You don't have to go crazy and start doing hardcore exercises at the gym, but you don't want to spiral down into longs days after days on your couch. Stay active, go for long walks, hikes, take prenatal yoga classes, dance classes and if you have it in you, you will benefit greatly by doing squats. Not only will you staying in good shape make it easier to get back into good shape, but you'll feel better during your pregnancy. . . . and most importantly this is how we help position our babies into our pelvis. When you're on your couch try and sit on your sides instead of your ass.

5) Do Your Research: Nowadays there are many different ways to give birth. Look into what they are and which feels best for you. Do not just put yourself into your doctors's hands blindly. Do research about the hospital you are giving birth in, for example, if your baby has complications after birth do they have the facilities or personnel to handle it - or will your baby have to endure an emergency transfer to another hospital. I've heard too many stories of this happening. Hospitals and doctors are not omnipotent and we all make mistakes. Once you become pregnant you become a parent - your child's life is now in your hands.

6) Hire a Doula for Your First Birth . . . if not for all of them: In my insurance case I couldn't pick and choose a doctor I'd like to deliver my baby - it was just a matter of destiny I suppose. Hiring a doula allows you to create a relationship with that person who will help you through birth, because most likely your husband cringes at the thought of watching the baby and all that blood come out of you. In my opinion going to a hospital to give birth without one is like going into trial without a lawyer. Doulas do much more than just massage and comfort you, which is very nice by the way. If you want a more involved birth experience, they will help you create a birth plan, try to help you get the doctors and nurses to follow it, and most importantly will help you make those important decisions mid-birth of when to not follow your birth plan.

7) Have a Birth Plan: Don't leave anything up to a nurse's or doctor's misinterpretation or your own mis-assumption. If you want to catch your baby ask for it. If you want a mirror to watch yourself pushing baby (because it helps, believe me), ask for it. I did not waste my time filling out the template birth plan I was given by my hospital. I wrote up my own very detailed one with my doula. It even states, "baby will room with us. No nursery." Never assume. I also asked for "delayed clamping of the umbilical cord until it has stopped pulsating; Immediate skin to skin with baby; No bath for the baby (they are born with this protective vernix that is extremely good for them); and to please delay all procedures until we've had bonding and nursing time." Those are just a few. I'm very happy I had a birth plan. 

8) Go To A Chiropractor: My doula/midwife was the only doctor who actually used her hands to feel the positioning of my baby. Around month 8 she noticed that although he was head down, he was also nudged diagonally inside me creating a sore spot for me above my left hip. She recommended me to go see Dr. Ryan Lazarus, a holistic chiropractor/nutritionist, who works with pregnant women as well. He didn't actually turn my baby or ever even touch him, he just focused on opening my pelvis. After one session with Dr. Lazarus Bruno's head dropped down into my pelvis and my sore spot went away. I continued to see Dr. Lazarus about once a week and I am happy to say that I never felt any back, hip, or pelvic discomfort during my last trimester. I slept amazing at night and was never in pain.

9) Due Dates . . . should be just a suggestion that your baby will most likely pop out around this week. Only 5% of women deliver on this date. What you do want to think about is that your doctor will start pressuring you to induce. There are much higher chances for an emergency C-section once you've been induced. C-sections are one of the most frequently performed surgeries in the U.S. Do not think for a second that our medical system is not dollar-driven.

10) Be Present . . . for each and every moment, second, and breath during this amazing yet challenging time of your life. Be wherever you are because you will most likely have to continuously rediscover yourself again . . even seconds later . . and you will never return to the YOU you were before baby was born. So enjoy your ever-evolving transformation.

This post was written with one hand, while the other hand is holding a sleeping, snorting ten pound baby, on and off, over a six hour period. I didn't think I could get it done!                                                                         

Baby Love Light

My Baby Bruno is now 5 weeks old and almost three pounds heavier than his birth weight. He is starting to be more cognizant, awake during the day, and curious about his surroundings.

I don't have as much time to write anymore because Bruno's grandparents are gone and I only get a few hours a day when Bruno will actually sleep in his bassinet for a substantial period of time. When this happens I have to choose between writing, cleaning, preparing food for myself, or taking care of domestic household needs.

I do have to surrender to the fact that the house is a bit messier and dirtier than usual. And I've completely given up thinking that I "should" be able to get "things done." The only thing getting done is taking care of Bruno's needs. Once I accepted that my life became less stressful. My husband works twelve hours a day, five days per week -- but I'm happy to say that the initial fear I felt over "doing this" alone is gone. I've regained my strength and overall just got used to be a mom. I never get frustrated by Bruno's crying, fussiness or cranky moments. Believe you me, I've had my fair share - it's his turn to let life drive him nuts emotionally. I know he needs me to be his calming lotion, so that's what I am. It won't last forever and I already miss it. The love light you feel waking up and looking into his eyes is magnanimous. A grand example is how my husband's caution of "just having a second baby" has already disappeared. At first he felt, "We need to have more money saved." "We need this . . . we need that . . . " But after five weeks of baby love light he said to me this morning, "Bruno is so unbelievable! I love this little boy so much," while holding Bruno with extended arms like an offering to God, "We need to have a second one; but let's wait two years, or one and a half. It will be a good time for you as well."

Of course I've always told him that this would be the way to go, and he always got pissed. I was pressuring him. I was rushing through things like I always did. I just wanted what I wanted without thinking it through. And now he understands that this was not the case at all. There are just some things in life you don't need to over think, you just need to do. Sometimes solutions don't emerge until you've stepped into the problem. Most of my life I've chosen action over thinking, or experience over waiting for the perfect moment. You learn as you go and you will never learn unless you go. When I first started this baby business I felt lost, scared, and completely alone. I cried multiple times while sitting at my table amongst a heap of doctor's paperwork or hand outs. I didn't understand any of the tests, the language, the process, my changing hormones or psychotic eating patterns. I still thought "you ate for two people," I still thought that having natural birth was the scariest thing in the world. I still thought that doing anything other than laying on a hospital bed on my back to have a baby would be super strange - I mean when have you ever seen on t.v. or in a movie something other than that? I had never thought that taking an epidural would also mean exposing my baby to the drug -- basically, I had never thought about anything.

I'm happy to know that I did it. It took a lot of studying, research and second, third, fourth opinions from many different types of doctors. Most importantly it took inner strength to stand alone and believe in myself.

New York Style Parenting Vs. Italian Style

Yesterday was the first day Bruno and I were completely alone since his first day home after birth. His Italian grandparents had flown in from Siena to help us, and to help Bruno, for almost a month. Let's just say it was a rougher day than usual yesterday. Let's review possible reasons why:

New York mommy's response to constant crying: "what are you a fucking pussy?"

Italian nonni response: Bruno is smothered with kisses and baby mimicking sounds/noises, Italian lullabies, while being cradled in his grandparents' arms at the first sign of discomfort.

Not to say that mommy New York style is harsh, but yesterday Bruno was crying out for the nonni who were no longer here and mommy was thinking, "I'm not a fucking octopus, and I don't have eight boobs either."

So we spent the day walking around my neighborhood in circles, breastfeeding more often than a devout catholic prays or feels guilty, and bounced on the exercise ball trying to get Bruno to sleep a million times. He would not sleep yesterday . . . and today, the best thing with newborns is that there's always a new day and a new behavior, Bruno is sleeping all day. And I'm starving because he's sleeping ontop of me and I don't want to wake him up because yesterday was tough for him, and now he is finally peaceful.

It might take a little while for Bruno to acclimate to mommy who is a little rougher around the edges than the Italian style, but I have the boobs, so I know I will be forgiven.